The Wheel of Fate
by Plains Pirate
Summary: Zelretch sends Shirou and co into the Potterverse just before Harry's first year, and things start changing before they even arrive. For example, their ages. Clearly, the Wizard Marshall wasn't satisfied with meddling in the affairs of just one school of magi... No ships. Up for adoption!
1. Chapter 1

**an:** Another fic!

 **disclaimer:** That took almost a month and a half.

 **an:** I've been busy with RL, shut up. Anyway, this is something I've been wanting to make for quite some time, and I have a fair amount of confidence in it, not the least because there are so many examples in existence already.

 **disclaimer:** Competitive, aren't we?

 **an:** And why not? This is a Harry Potter / Fate/Stay Night crossover fic, and it'll have a lot of characters. Ambitious, yes, but I'm certain I can handle it so long as I don't burn myself out.

 **disclaimer:** Harry Potter is written and owned by J. K. Rowling, and Fate/Stay Night is property of Type Moon. The author owns neither of these.

 **an:** Some inspiration can be blamed on claimed from Crosswinds of Fate by Way Farer2000, which is sadly a deadfic. Hopefully this won't be.

Points of departure from canon:

 **Nasuverse:** Fate/Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works route, Good End – Illyasviel survives; Shirou makes it in time to catch Gilgamesh about to kill Illyasviel and distracts him long enough for Bersercules to make one last strike at him, which is enough to drive him off. Berserker still dies, and Illyasviel is too injured to continue in the Grail War, but she does survive.

 **Potterverse:** As canon (disregarding Cursed Child) until three weeks prior to Halloween 1981. Certain elements of canon, mostly from Pottermore, are altered/disregarded/I-couldn't-be-bothered-to-research.

Spoilers for Fate/Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works ahead! Possible spoilers for Fate/Hollow Ataraxia as well in later chapters.

"Spoken"

"[Spoken in something other than English]"

 _Thought_

 _[Telepathic communication]_

" _ **Electronic communication via means besides radio"**_

 _ **[[Radio communication]]**_

* * *

 **A Wizarding World**

 **Little Whinging, Surrey, England, United Kingdom**

 **November 7, 1981**

 **10:30 PM**

The tenth month of 1981, and the following week, had been a very abnormal year for the world, both wizarding and non. Egypt's president was assassinated during a parade, anti-nuclear protests were held across much of Europe, and the miniature civil war in the Wizarding World (at least in Britain) reached its highest and bloodiest point, culminating in the deaths of James and Lily Potter, the near-death of their infant son, Harry, and the disappearance of a man styling himself as Lord Voldemort, who was responsible for it all. It came to an abrupt end after that, leaving a much smaller-than-before population of wizards in Western Europe in general and the British Isles specifically to clean up a massive magical mess. And to top it all off, on the second of November a crane in Scotland dropped a nuclear missile. It didn't explode, but a lot of Muggles were rightfully scared about the how America almost gave the Scottish Highlands an unhealthy glow.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number 4, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. There was Mr. Vernon Dursley, who directed a company that sold drills, and looked rather like a walrus that had been forced against its will to dress up as a human for so long that the disguise became convincing to all but the walrus himself, and had a personality to match. There was Mrs. Petunia Dursley, whose body had seemed as if she had mistakenly given all her fat to Vernon, leaving her just enough to not be skeletal. In exchange, Vernon must have given her all of his neck, thus giving her the appearance of a crane, or a particularly average-looking horse. The young Dudley Dursley, their son, was almost magical in the way he stayed nearly spherical while gaining height at the typical rate of a one-year-old boy.

While Mr. Dursley's sleep on the first of November had been fitful and plagued with worry (for himself), tonight he slept like a corpse. Sure, there had been a few odd sightings at the start of the month – owls going crazy, an unexpected swarm of shooting stars, and a bunch of people wearing strange robes – one of whom had _hugged_ him! - but now things seemed to have calmed down. In fact, the only remnant of oddness from the start of the month had been that damned tabby cat that had decided to haunt Privet Drive all week – and had a special interest in his house. Every time he saw the blasted thing it was staring, unflinchingly, at his house. He rarely saw it so much as blink; let alone do anything more cat-like than display skills of acrobatics getting out of the way of the few people that walked down the sidewalk. Petunia had seen it too on occasion, but it didn't seem to show as much interest in her as it did him. It couldn't have truly been observing him – cats didn't care much about that. Was it his cologne? He had changed to a new one a while ago after his old brand was discontinued, perhaps that was what interested the cat. But then, why didn't it come closer to investigate? Why come no closer than the other side of the street?

He filed it away in his mind as nothing more than a particularly odd cat – he never did understand cats very much. Hopefully it would grow bored soon and he'd never have to worry about a tabby cat that stared at maps and signs and _him_ ever again. Besides, even if it did have something to do with those freaks that Petunia's sister associated with, which he was now certain all that nonsense earlier that week _did_ , what would it matter? He and Petunia had made it abundantly clear to her sister what they thought of their kind. They hadn't even seen each other in years. Surely it wouldn't affect them.

In another timeline, he would not have been more wrong. But in this timeline, something had already changed things.

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 **A** **Moonlit** **World**

 **Marshall's Office, The Clock Tower**

 **London, United Kingdom**

 **August 3, 2010**

 **10:30 AM**

To say that Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the Wizard Marshall, Zelretch of the Jewels, the Kaleidoscope, Master of the Second Magic, one of the Five Magicians, had a messy office would be a disservice to messy offices. Zelretch's office at almost all times looked like a bomb had gone off in it and had devoted all its energy to scattering things about instead of doing any real damage. His usual excuse was that he had had an idea and wanted to look over some materials he had on hand before exploring it had long ceased to become convincing, because Zelretch was always having ideas, most of them which would come at the expense of one magus or another.

He kept using it though, as it _was_ technically correct. The best kind, in his book.

Before him sat one of his apprentices, Rin Tohsaka, plus three of her colleagues within the Mage's Association and fellow students of the Clock Tower. Technically speaking, the red-and-white haired Asian man (Shirou Emiya) and the violet-haired Asian woman (Sakura Matou) were his apprentice's apprentices – the man because he was only good at doing one thing with thaumaturgy before his apprenticeship, the woman because her actual teacher's idea of teaching would be considered torturous and cruel even by mage standards from when Zelretch was starting out. And considering what maguses were like now, and when Zelretch was starting out, that threshold was low. The fourth, Illyasviel von Einzbern, was Shirou's older sister, Rin's fellow properly trained and educated magus, and had just started aging again after the part of her half-homunculus DNA that prevented it had been removed.

For now, however, he sat in his excessively cushy office chair, staring across his equally excessively large (less likely to be damaged or stolen since it won't fit through the door) desk, waiting for a response from his four slack-jawed proteges. Well, five. Saber's – Rin's Servant – eyes had widened at his words, which was about as close to slack-jawed as she was willing to display in public.

Eventually, Rin managed to pick her jaw off the floor and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if to hold in the derisive snort yearning to be free. She returned her arm to its rest and left her hand up in a halting gesture as she replied eyes closed.

"All right. Let me see if I understand. You want me -"

"All of you, but go on."

"All _five_ of us… to go to another dimension, via the metacoordinates, Mystic Code, and circles you will provide, research their dimension's magecraft for ten years – a system completely alien to our own, with mechanics equally alien to our own, all after spending four years -"

"Destroying one of the easiest paths to True Magic that have ever existed within the past two centuries, yes. I do believe that is the gist of what I just explained for the third time."

"You mean the Holy Grail that turned into a ticking time bomb because your half-assed security measures couldn't keep it from being corrupted? I've spent most of the last _ten years_ cleaning up _your_ mess! And now you're springing this on me, with only forty-eight hours to prepare?"

Zelretch gave the young Tohsaka a loo that was the sort a professor would give a student mad that they had just gotten a full ride scholarship to Harvard, but they weren't angry at the student, just disappointed.

"Really, most maguses would give up half their family's work for an opportunity such as this. You'll be learning about a completely new style of thaumaturgy, and before anyone else gets so much as the idea that there is a chance to. And you'll have most of your preparation done for you – I'll have documentation ready for you by the time you need to leave, in case anyone in that universe decides to do any digging on who or what you really are. Obviously, you can't just _tell_ people you're from another dimension. Nobody'd believe you – unless, well, unless you're me." He gave her his usual shit-eating grin before continuing.

"Your passports will also be modified to appear correct for that year, more a precaution than anything. You'll also have money from the correct era – the dimension you'll be heading to is about nineteen years behind our own. I'll even throw in enough money to get started on buying a proper residence." He shook his head with a huff. "For shame, to be cursed with such an ungrateful apprentice..."

"Ungrateful?! Why you filthy, slimy, arrogant, blood-sucking, German piece mff-" Whatever Rin was about to say, it was cut off by Sakura blocking off her mouth with her hand. And her muffled cries of protest were covered up by Sakura and Shirou thanking Zelretch for the offer which they of course accepted, Illya giving Rin a face with almost lethal amounts of smug, and Saber just looking embarrassed of her Master's behavior.

Zelretch took a sip of the cheap coffee he had procured for himself earlier in the day, now cold. "My, I wonder just _what_ she was about to call me. I could have used it on the Director..."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **A Wizarding World**

 **Little Whinging, Surrey, United Kingdom**

 **November 7, 1981**

 **10:34 PM**

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, possessor of the Order of Merlin First Class among many other awards and titles, stood on the street wearing long violet robes and buckled boots with Cuban heels. He had an unreadable expression on his face, due to the strange situation he found himself in. Normally he was not the sort to have his plans shaken up easily, and in truth, his plan on what to do with the freshly-orphaned infant son of James and Lily Potter was damn-near unshakable. Unpleasant the Dursleys may have been, but you could drop the magical equivalent of a bomb on a Sacrificial Protection Charm and it wouldn't so much as give whatever the charm was protecting a paper cut. Sure, they were hostile towards magic in all its forms, but he firmly believed that they would care too much about their social standing to just abandon a baby relative of theirs, especially with a well argued-out note explaining the situation.

However.

About two weeks ago, the Divinations professor he had only recently hired (and only because she had the insane luck to See a prophecy _during her job interview_ , and a very specific one at that), Saw another.

" _Seven approach, from a moonlit parallel they come... strangers to all, they hold the wheel of Fate in their hands, though they know its course not… in the eleventh year of the survivor they will arrive, with powers the Dark Lord knows not yet but will… the lines of battle will spread, things once Hidden will be Found, things once Secret will be Known… at the height of the eleventh year... the seven... from the moonlit... world will arrive..."_

Ominous. While the summation of the prophecy would be "seven people from another place nobody knows about will shake things up, plan for plans to be ruined", it was the details that most concerned Dumbledore. Firstly, the timing – they would arrive during the 'seventh year of the survivor' - and that was an obvious thing: Whoever Voldemort picked to be the Boy-Who-Lived, they would show up the same year that the Boy-Who-Lived would be eligible to go to Hogwarts, which he now knew was Harry Potter.

The second was even worse – Things hidden being found, things secret being known? It was uncharacteristically vague for a prophecy, they could mean anything. Which usually meant it was something big, a theory supported by the Emphasis placed on them. The problem was, what?

Prophecies were puzzles, yes, but they were supposed to be relatively easy if you had a general idea of what or who they were about or for. If they were hard, the Department of Mysteries wouldn't go through so much trouble to hoard them in a nigh-impenetrable room in the Ministry of Magic, a place behind only the Gringott's London branch and Hogwarts itself for security. The fact that it was so vague…

It concerned Dumbledore enough to reevaluate what he was willing to risk in regards to Harry Potter's safety. True, the Sacrificial Protection Charm was nigh-infallible to magical damage, but the Dursleys would have to actually accept him into their home, if not into their family, to activate it. And therein was the problem. The charm was infallible to _magical_ damage – physical damage too, but below a certain limit it would be ignored as 'accidental' or merely 'punishment' - though if it happened frequently enough, even slaps on the wrist would activate it. However, it was utterly porous to _psychological_ damage. Perhaps it was beyond its power, or perhaps such a thing was not even considered in the ages long past when the charm was created. Dumbledore hoped for the former as he pulled out a device that resembled a silver cigarette lighter. A few clicks, and the night was dark, illuminated only by the waxing moon and the hazy, orange-white light pollution of London to the east.

The tabby cat that had been watching Privet Drive all week was there to meet him. He walked down the street until he reached an iron bench across from the mailbox of Number Four Privet Drive, upon which the aforementioned cat was sitting.

"Another eventful evening, Professor McGonagall?" he asked as he sat down.

Where once had been a cat, there was now a severe-looking woman in a dark emerald robe with square glasses, who looked thoroughly displeased and yet resigned to her current situation. She had every right to be: As one of the only Animagus on the Hogwarts staff, and the only Animagus in the Order of the Phoenix who wasn't currently dead, she had been assigned observation duty on the Dursleys. As part of Dumbledore's reevaluation of whether the Sacrificial Protection Charm was worth it, she was to observe and report via Owl every day for about a week, which Dumbledore felt was long enough to get a detailed understanding of anyone's average parenting abilities when it came to babies.

Professor Minerva McGonagall made a face like she had attempted to swallow a peeled lemon whole as she decided which words to describe the Dursleys were both accurate yet polite enough for a woman of her stature to be using in public.

"I don't see why you needed me to observe them for an entire week, Albus," she finally said. "These people would _never_ accept Harry – they barely acknowledged Lily's existence, and when they do it's only to pass her off as a freak of nature. And even if they _did_ , he'll either be treated like a servant, or spoiled rotten like their own son!"

Albus shook his head. "They are his closest blood relatives –" Minerva shot him a Look that indicated exactly how much she cared about that fact which was none at all "– but I of all people should know the difference between 'relative' and 'family'."

"So me sitting on sidewalks and brick walls all day was for nothing?"

Again, Dumbledore shook his head. "Merlin, no – your continued observance of the Dursleys was of twofold purpose. I firstly wanted to give them as many chances as possible for their behavior to improve – perhaps they were merely having a bad first of November."

"And the second reason?"

Now it was Albus's turn to look for appropriate phrasing. "I do apologize for this, but I admit part of it was to give me as much time as possible to look for a proper home."

"I'm sure the Weasleys-"

"I'm sure the Weasleys and many other families within the Order like them would love to adopt Harry, but no. Arthur has always been a bit too excitable, and Harry's childhood must be balanced. Famous throughout the Wizarding World, for something the boy won't even consciously remember! No, if he is to be raised by someone from our world, he must be raised by someone who won't be swayed by anything, let alone fame. And ideally, someone with knowledge or even presence in both our world and the Muggle world."

That was a rare sort of personality to have, and an even rarer type of person to be, though there were a few that came to mind.

"Amelia? Are you sure she's the parenting type?"

"After some convincing, she did say yes."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows did a bit of knitting over this as she tried to find another argument against having Amelia Bones be Harry's guardian, but upon finding any she decided to shift to a related topic. "How is the boy getting there, then? He's still in Hogwarts, and the Express is still under repair..."

"Hagrid's bringing him."

Professor McGonagall felt at this rate, by the time the conversation was over she'd be able to lift her wand with just her eyebrows for all the exercise they were getting.

"Do you think it… wise, to trust Hagrid with something so important?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore said simply as he pulled out a large silver pocketwatch.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," Professor McGonagall admitted, "but you can't say he isn't careless. He does tend to -" she paused as Dumbledore snapped the pocketwatch's lid shut and stuffed it back in his robe.

"Hagrid should be arriving at the Bones residence now," he said as he walked towards a particularly dark section of the street before clicking the cigarette lighter like device once more, allowing artificial light to return to that part of Surrey. Professor McGonagall hurried to move with him before the lights came fully on so that they would both remain mostly in shadow. Careful eyes may notice Apparition under the glow of a sodium lamp, but in the shadows, at night, under an overcast sky, it would be easy to mistake a wizard and witch Apparating for a trick of the light, if anyone was up at all.

Thankfully, no one was there to see them vanish from Surrey entirely. It would be quite some time before either of them would be seen on that street again.

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 **A** **Moonlit** **World**

 **2nd Floor, The Clock Tower**

 **London, United Kingdom**

 **August 3, 2010**

 **1** **:30** **P** **M**

It was a normal afternoon in the Clock Tower, which naturally meant there were a lot of maguses running about like so many decapitated chickens, late or merely wanting to be early for one thing or another. Maguses may act dignified but really they were all a lot like STEM college students with something to prove that wasn't just their thesis.

On such magus was _not_ Illyasviel, who was not terribly nervous, even though she had less than two days before she would find herself spending ten _years_ in another dimension. In fact she was downright calm, even excited. Unlike Rin who was focusing on how much time she did not have to prepare, Illya found herself agreeing with what Zelretch though of the project. A veritable bumpercrop of knowledge about a new dimension and unknown, unstudied magecraft.

Her grandfather had thought very little of her in any regard after the Holy Grail War, considering her to have 'served her purpose' and be of no use to him, no matter how hard she studied or how well she did. Sure he gave her money, but only out of obligation as head of the Einzbern family and because she would be well within her rights to raise a stink about it otherwise. Most of her supplies as a magus came from what was liberated from the Matou estate or from [shudder of shudders] Rin, who was more than happy to let Illya know it. With this, even with the credit split six ways, her grandfather would either have to respect her or bite her ass for all she cared. Even if there was nothing special about the dimension, she'd have enough clout to get a country's worth of Einzbern castles.

For now though she still had a few things to take care of. Nothing major – tying up loose ends, collecting debts, submitting due papers early so that she wouldn't have to worry about them, doing some last-minute shopping of supplies. Just in case they couldn't find somewhere to set up shop right away. A low possibility, but Shirou wanted to be prepared for anything.

...Okay, part of it was because he also wanted an excuse to buy English cookbooks, since he was doubtful he'd be able to find any stores that carried decent Asian ingredients in 1990s England or Scotland. But it counted as survival, because otherwise they'd have to eat someone else's cooking.

Illya was thinking greedily about yakitori when she bumped into someone tall, lanky, and English with a hint of Asian.

"Lord El-Molloi the second! My apologies, I didn't see you..."

For such a tall man as the man once known as Waver Velvet, some might take such a comment as an insult. Luckily he did not, as he wasn't the sort who really cared about such things. Instead he merely brushed himself off, and upon realizing it was Illya, turned his face into something more neutral than his usual RBF. Most inhabitants in the Clock Tower had learned to interpret this as his equivalent of a 'light smile'.

"It's no trouble at all, Miss Einzbern," he said as he continued to straighten up his posture. "In fact I was actually looking for you."

This surprised the albinistic German. Sure, she was friends (inasmuch as maguses can be friends and mostly because) and Shirou's sister and thus related to one of Lord El-Molloi II's apprentice's apprentice's (or former apprentices – she wasn't sure if he had really given up Rin to Zelretch in full.)

"It took some convincing," he said as he withdrew a plain black metal box from his satchel. "Not from the owners, mind you, Zelretch just didn't want you to get these until the last second. Thought it'd be funnier that way." He lowered the box a bit and stepped closer to Illya so that only they could see inside as he opened it. Inside was a Grecian arrowhead, and a fragment of a Celtic spear.

"These are..."

He snapped the box shut, almost on Illya's nose (but not quite) as a pair of students entered hearing range. He then handed it to her, and she slung it under her shoulder, careful not to jostle the contents too much.

"I am sure you of all people would know what to do with them."

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. Oh, she knew exactly what to do with-

"While preliminary tests indicated that a magus of your caliber _might_ be able to handle it, I would advise against taking both for yourself."

Dammit.

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 **A** **Wizarding** **World**

 **Bones Estate**

 **Banchester-By-The-Sea, Dover, United Kingdom**

 **November 7, 1981**

 **10:30 PM**

While the Bones had been in Banchester almost as long as it had been by the sea, and Dover even longer, the Bones Estate was a relatively new edition, constructed during the Gothic Revival period of Muggle architecture after Archibald Bones accidentally burned the old Estate down trying to develop a magic-powered motorcar. It was paid for with a good amount of money, as back then the Bones had money to spare. Some of the best wizard architects were called for, and they were told to create the grandest, most imposing manor in England.

Unfortunately, they succeeded. The net result looked much like if someone had lifted one of the bunkers on the beaches of Normandy, flipped it over dirt and all, and stopped halfway through Transfiguring it into a proper Gothic Revival manor. The walls were smooth, grey, and almost featureless besides the windows and corners. The second floor was a near perfect duplicate of the first, and the third was buried beneath a nest of copper-green parapets and brown turrets, with windows poking out from the occasional dormer. A balcony at the back, hidden behind a pair of fat square turrets, provided a relatively secluded place to observe the stars and launch off via broomstick. At either side were large bulges of windows that would have been considered sun rooms if it were ever sunny in Banchester. A three-car garage had been added, but this was clearly a recent addition and its architecture clashed with the rest of the building.

A pair of firecracker-like _pops_ accompanied by puffs of black smoke announced the arrival of Dumbledore and McGonagall a few feet from the iron gate. Attached to the fence next to the gate itself was what looked like an old wooden wall telephone without a mouthpiece. Dumbledore spun the rotor a few times with his wand and a cone-shaped mouthpiece appeared on a cord, snake-like in its motions. The rumble of an English motorcycle engine could be heard in the distance, steadily growing louder. The mouthpiece observed the two wizards before focusing on Dumbledore.

" _ **I assume you've come to bring the boy here?"**_ came a distinctly female, neutral voice from the other side.

"Yes," said Dumbledore with a smile as the volume of the motorcycle engine increased. In the distance a black, lumpy dot appeared in the air, growing rapidly.

" _ **I hope you realize that I am only doing this for his sake, not yours,"**_ came the voice as the dot revealed itself to be an excessively large and green Triumph motorcycle plus sidecar, with an equally excessively large man atop.

"I would not presume otherwise, Amelia. I know how you feel about the Order."

" _ **Your merry band of vigilantes caused me no end of headaches,"**_ the woman now known as Amelia replied. **_"But… Lily was a friend, and I have no reason not to believe what you say about Harry."_**

The motorcycle finally landed a few meters behind the two professors. From atop it came a giant of a man – three meters tall and at least that much in circumference, he would look like an overly large Santa Claus if only his hair was clean, well-behaved and white instead of frizzy, wild and black. Or if he had a fur-trimmed red coat instead of a wool-trimmed brown duster. His face had the look of a man who had done a lot of crying thinking over the past week or so and had only just come to terms with whatever had caused him to do so.

'Whatever' was the bundle of many-colored blankets wrapped in his arms. The snakish mouthpiece-cord device seemed very interested in the bundle, and lifted the mouthpiece in order to more plainly point the microphone at the upper end of the bundle. Within said bundle was a face – small, thin by infant standards, and with a messy mop of black hair. The boy opened his eyes, a deep emerald green, but what really drew the most attention was the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

" _ **Is that scar permanent?"**_

"Yes, unfortunately," said Dumbledore. "But even if I could heal it, I wouldn't – scars can come in handy."

" _ **Well, bring him in, then,"**_ Amelia replied as the gate unlocked with a heavy-sounding click. **_"No sense keeping a baby out in the cold longer than one has to, no matter how many blankets he's wrapped in."_**

With almost palpable reluctance, Hagrid followed Albus and Minerva through the iron gate towards the front door. He let out a small sniffle as he looked down at Harry, who had gone back to sleep.

"'m gonna miss 'im," he said. "Fang'll miss 'im too."

"It'll only be eleven years until you can see him again every day," said Professor McGonagall in a(n attempt at) a calming tone. "And I'm sure you'll have opportunities to visit before then."

Hagrid wasn't convinced.

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 **A Wizarding World**

 **Ben Ledi, The Trossachs**

 **Stirlingshire, Scotland, United Kingdom**

 **July 18, 1991**

 **10:30 PM**

The actual use of the Magic of the Kaleidoscope certainly lived up to its name. An explosion of light and color like a large bonfire, light without order and sound without meaning announced the arrival of the four maguses and the one Servant to this unknown dimension. All around them, the rest of their 'cover' equipment that couldn't be carried on person arrived – a 1985 five-door Range Rover in a vaguely copper color with a vaguely tan interior, tents and sleeping bags all in offensively late 80s shades of too bright, petrol-fired lanterns and camp stoves in a more normal shade of Coleman green, plastic coolers in white and red, deck chairs in faded shades of blue and orange, and a handful of other trappings of the typical upper-middle class English campsite of the very early 1990s.

A perfectly normal one, mind you, barring the large trunk strapped to the roof of the SUV – it too used the Second Magic as a means of becoming a Trunk of Holding, and unlike the similar one that served as a Tohsaka heirloom, it was a plain-looking military surplus green-grey trunk. There were still some problems with time passing differently inside and outside, but even miracles had limits.

On their persons were, of course, the papers and documentations needed. IDs of various types so that both the allegedly-magical and confirmably-mundane governments of the UK and the EU wouldn't get too suspicious of five (soon to be seven) random people just showing up on a mountainside in Scotland, several thousand pounds (1989-1991 issue) in wallets and satchels. (Rin had asked about a card, but apparently the magical society of this world didn't use them.) Enough money to buy a decent-sized house on the mundane markets, well outside of London at least. Which suited all of them but Shirou just fine – fewer people around meant a lower chance of anyone snooping around, though on the downside it would make it harder to find ingredients. But, well, it was something he'd have to deal with.

He couldn't help but feel a little excited though – at last he would see not one, but two proper Servant summonings. Tomorrow evening – Zelretch had been quite insistent that they spend at least the first night sleeping to give their bodies and circuits time to adjust to the flow of magic in the air. Ideally two or three, which Shirou had agreed with, but he'd have a better chance of fighting Gilgamesh on his own than convincing Rin to wait that long, and a better chance fighting Gilgamesh with no arms and blindfolded than convincing Rin _and_ Illya.

Speaking of Illya, as his eyes adjusted to the weak light of the half-moon, she looked a bit odd. Sure, Zelretch had said he might have to 'adjust' their bodies to ease adjustment to the new dimension, but was it really necessary to make her that much taller?

"I know he meant to put us somewhere remote," said Rin in a pitch that sent chills down Shirou's spine almost as cold as the grin on Illya's face, "but did he have to drop us on the side of a mountain?"

"There are plenty of mountains in Scotland, Tohsaka-san," said Sakura in a similar pitch. This caused both of them to widen their eyes, as did their noticing of how much taller Illya had become.

And Saber.

Rin walked over to the Range Rover's rear view mirror. An eleven-year old girl looked back at her. Turning back to the group, an eleven-year-old Shirou and an eleven-year-old Sakura looked at her with the same shocked expression she had on.

Shirou remembered seeing an image in a magazine once of four frames of an ultra-high-framerate recording of an exploding bomb. The heat of its warhead detonating caused the grey metal skin to turn purple, then red, then orange-red, then white before exploding. Rin underwent a similar change of colors before uttering a single word with enough volume to split the mountain they all stood upon.

" **ZELRETCH!"**


	2. Chapter 2

**an:** at last, a new chapter! i intended to get this out about a week ago, so i'd have more time with other projects before i started job training, but oh well.

 **disclaimer:** by which you mean you wanted to get your eva fic out on the same day it came out on netflix.

 **an:** and that's a bad thing?

 **disclaimer:** better than the netflix dub at least. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling, and Fate/Stay Night and Fate/Grand Order are owned by Type-Moon. The author owns neither of these.

* * *

 **A Wizarding World**

 **Diagon Alley**

 **July 19, 1991**

 **10:07 AM**

If there was one thing, out of the many things, that Harry Potter-Bones would admit about the shameless expose of all things wizarding that Diagon Alley was to the prospective new witch or wizard, it was that you never really got used to it. It made sense – the whole place was all but specifically designed to be the sanitized, theme park version of wizarding life. 'Look at all this', it says, 'and see how amazing being a wizard/witch will be for you! Please pay no attention to the blood purists or look for too long at Knockturn Alley, instead, how about some magically flavored ice cream and racing brooms?'

He could appreciate the effort put forward, at least. And there was always something new to see in Diagon Alley. Sometimes it wasn't even a muggleborn doing something weird or dangerous!

He and his mother had both decided it'd be a good idea to skip the Leaky Cauldron entirely. The Boy who Lived's adoption to the Bones family (and his existence) was the wizarding world's worst-kept secret, yes, but enough of a secret that bringing him to the front door of the British world of wizardry was just asking to cause a scene.

Mostly from fresh muggleborns and their families, of course. For those who were used to magic, Harry was rather old news.

So instead, they took the Floo to one of the three public Floo stations within Diagon Alley; specifically the North Diagon Alley station as it was closest to Gringotts.

Gringotts was certainly an interesting building – opulent too, which it could afford being the only sanctioned wizarding bank in both the UK and Ireland – but Harry had been here many times before, and every time he hadn't been let inside either the Potter or the Bones vault. According to his mum, he had no reason to be in there himself, and the goblins were inclined to agree.

So here he sat, outside the silver doors in the foyer so he could at least entertain himself by people-watching. He looked up at the silver doors, whose words he knew by heart, as the doors again slid shut with a near-inaudible click. The warning poetry was the same as it ever was, so he turned back outside to spot a family of seven looking around like they were the freshest of fresh muggleborns, all but the apparent mother of the very eclectic family. Something about them told him they were very much not muggleborns though, and it wasn't just because one of the children had purple hair and one of the adults was an albino. This, at least, was worth his attention.

 **Ben Ledi, The Trossachs**

 **Stirlingshire, Scotland, United Kingdom**

 **July 18, 1991**

 **10:32 PM**

Rin was angry.

Correction: Rin was pissed.

RE: Correction: Correction: Rin was absolutely _apoplectic._ It wasn't over any sort of romantic issues this might bring up – she and Shirou had broken off their relationship quite amicably a year after the Holy Grail War, as both came to realize it had been borne more of adrenaline than emotion and that if they wanted to have a real relationship they may as well start over.

Well, that may have been part of it, but the real problem is that Zelretch had the _audacity_ of sending all three of the fully (physically) adult mages back to tweenagedom, and he expected them to stay long enough to experience the full breadth of puberty. Honestly, how did that troll-brained vampire expect them to get any research done while high as a kite off of _teenage hormones?_

The damned troll's idea of a joke, no doubt. As Rin fumed while setting up camp, Shirou mulled over the situation they all found themselves in, Sakura helped Rin, and Illya folded up the document that provided Zelretch's explanation – and the reason for Rin's continued incandescence.

 _Dear Apprentice Tohsaka and associates:_

 _If you haven't noticed by now, the three_

 _fully human members of your team are now_

 _eleven, with_ _Illyasviel_ _being physically about_

 _twenty-five. Besides being absolutely hilarious, I_

 _have a reason for doing this._ _You see, there's a_

 _small issue with the_ _mana_ _in this dimension-_

 _something about how it works with Magic Circuits-_

 _that makes it harder for adults to use the_

 _dominant magecraft system in this dimension._

 _And while it'd be entertaining to watch you_

 _struggle for months to do what children_

 _of this world can learn how to do in days,_

 _I imagine I'd get bored of it soon enough._

 _So I had Ruby age you back some, and Illya_

 _forward some. I've also provided some reading_

 _materials for you to give you some ideas on_

 _what to do with your preteen selves._

And that was Zelretch's message. Also in the rather thick envelope was:

A tourism pamphlet on England and Scotland by the 'British Ministry of Magic' which, according to a second pamphlet, was rather like the Mage's Association with slightly less backstabbing and much more specialized university-level education.

The aforementioned second pamphlet, created for something akin to a 'wizarding' civics class and giving a brief overview of how the MoM worked – none too different from Her Majesty's Government really, and apparently both the Prime Minister and Her Majesty herself were privy to any really big things going on in the Wizarding World as they stylized themselves – Her Majesty far more than the Prime Minister, naturally. Apparently the Windsors of this world had a modicum of magecraft in them.

A third pamphlet on a Scottish school called 'Hogwarts' which served as the general educational equivalent of the Clock Tower but at a junior high and high school level, designed for parents no doubt. Rin's mood was not helped substantially by the utter lack of non-magical education in the curriculum and the frankly laughable state of their 'Muggle Studies' course, and even Shirou was rather shocked by that.

Fourth, it contained a dossier on things Zelretch thought they might need to know. Recent history, basic wizarding pop culture, sports (Shirou seemed oddly determined to change the rules of Quidditch), and most important of all (so saith Zelretch), politics.

They had all shared a collective groan at that. Just what they all needed, more politics. To make matters worse, Zelretch had described the political situation as 'delicate', with a lot of people on the losing side claiming the mind control made them do it, and a good chunk of them regaining their sociopolitical standing afterwards. A somewhat magus claim to make, though most mages would be frankly embarrassed to be someone else's puppet for so long.

There were a few other things, like some laws they would have to keep in mind while in the Wizarding World, places worth noting that weren't Hogwarts or a place in London known as 'Diagon Alley', that sort of thing. Apart from the letter, it seemed like Zelretch had popped into this dimension and raided the wizarding equivalent of a highway rest stop for any interesting sources of information.

At last, camp had been set up, and Rin was finally calm enough to say something other than 'Zelretch' preceded or followed by an expletive.

"All right-"

"Not to interrupt what is probably a brilliant plan," Illyasviel says suddenly, "but as I am currently the oldest, I-"

Now, Illya was quite used to lethal glares. She was an Einzbern, after all. But when Rin wanted to, she could return one even she considered respectable. She could do better of course, but for a magus of a much younger bloodline, it wasn't half bad.

"There will be no stacking bodies, Illya-san," Sakura calmly stated.

"More importantly, _we -"_ Rin pointed to herself, Sakura, and Shirou in turn - "don't have much choice as to what we'll be doing." She laid out the page of the dossier featuring pages taken from something called the "Magical Traveler's Guide to England – Chapter 6 – Laws & Education."

 _While not uncommon for European nations to restrict underage magic_ or _have a heavy hand in a child's magical education, the United Kingdom (and to a lesser extent Ireland) is unusual in that it has both, and quite strictly. Like Austria, Britain's underage magic laws are strict enough for the BMoM to call for a juvenile court proceeding for even accusations, and like America virtually all jobs in the UK require either an education from a BMoM-approved facility or a from the age of eleven to seventeen, or a N.E.W.T. Equivalent Certificate for emancipated seventeen year olds if, for whatever reason, they did not go to a wizarding school._

Illya sighed. "Bra _vo,_ Troll of the Clock Tower. You've got us completely set on whatever path this 'Hogwarts' will take us to."

"Well, that explains what we'll be doing," Shirou said as he began to set up the (excessively high quality) campground cooking utensils he had bribed Zelretch into getting them, "but how will we get in?"

Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.

Speak of Hogwarts acceptance letters while of the appropriate age, and they shall bean you in the back of the head.

Rin squeezed her eyes shut for five, ten seconds.

"Should we just start the summons, Master?"

"Let's just start the summons, Saber."

 **Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress Office**

 **Moray, Scotland, United Kingdom**

 **July 18, 1991**

 **10:30 PM**

With the required material list already completed and all post-term grading long since finished, the summer holiday was typically a time for relaxation, academical pursuits, or both for the typical Hogwarts professor, even for the Deputy Headmistress. The DH's role was mostly clerical for Hogwarts' day-to-day affairs, and Dumbledore preferred to handle larger projects himself.

And while it was a little odd that Minerva McGonagall was in her school office instead of at home, it wasn't that odd. The McGonagall Manor was in a region of Scotland with particularly unpleasant weather, and her house elves' maintenance of it had proven too noisy for her. Besides, the Dept. of Mysteries' latest published paper on Transfiguration was just too juicy to ignore.

So she could be forgiven for ignoring the sound of the Book of Admittance turning onto its spine on its own, and for being startled when it fell open with a _thump_. Not a whack or a whump, but a thump, which usually meant it had discovered someone interesting who ought to be at Hogwarts.

The altered pages stuck out a little, which was always convenient.

Emiya, Shirou.

Matou, Sakura.

Tohsaka, Rin.

So there were some Japanese students coming to Hogwarts instead of Mahoutokoro? That was certainly unusual enough to warrant a brief bit of attention, maybe, but not such a notable expansion of the genealogy sec-

Oh.

Oh my.

Dumbledore would need to hear about this.

 **Ben Ledi, The Trossachs**

 **Stirlingshire, Scotland, United Kingdom**

 **July 18, 1991**

 **11:02 PM**

She shouldn't have been up this late, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. A weakness, maybe, but ever since she learned that magic was real – and that she was capable of it – she dove into learning about it with the same voracity as she did any other subject she deemed worthy of her attention. When in London, she was in Flourish and Blotts (or the magical branch of the British Library) almost as often as she was at her home in Tottenham. And when she was out and about on the many trips her parents had taken her on in celebration over the summer for her Hogwarts letter, she got books by owl post.

Two knuts was a small price to pay for a stack of books every week. Non-magical book clubs charged as much as a pound sterling.

But this – this! She'd never heard of anything like this in her books before. Which meant either she wasn't old enough to use it (she didn't care), it was Dark (which it didn't sound like and she thought that was a bollocks designation anyway), or it wasn't something taught at Hogwarts at all (likely). And if it was the latter, there was a good chance she'd never have another shot at using it again.

And that was just not going to happen. She was Hermione Jean Motherfucking Granger, and she was _not_ going to let free knowledge just go to waste.

By her understanding, she needed three things – a 'circle', a 'catalyst', and an 'aria', which she assumed was the chant the people who cast this magic she saw did. The aria was easy, she had a good memory for spoken words. The circle was a little harder, she only saw the one they used at a steep angle and a distance, but she supposed it'd be good enough.

The catalyst? Well… she had a poster from a magic gift shop at the Rathcroghan Visitor Centre, perhaps that would work?

Only one way to find out…

 **Ben Ledi**

 **11:07 PM**

Everyone else was asleep, even Archer, but she was not. She had taken watch for that period of the night – mages were paranoid in any era, she supposed, especially in a new dimension. In honesty it had been boring at first, and she had even dispelled her mighty lance.

But then the unmistakable magic of a Summoning had roused her to full attention. She _moved_ , faster than the human mind could think, to a position where she could see who-

Ah.

Well, if _that brat_ was here, things would certainly get interesting.

If some poor fool summoned her protege, doubly so. She returned to spiritual form, but held no doubt that she had been spotted by the third Servant in this dimension.

 **A Wizarding World**

 **Diagon Alley**

 **July 19, 1991**

 **10:00 AM**

Rin's jaw was somewhere off the coast of New Zealand as she stared at the sight before her. To a mage, magic was _sacred._ Something to be hidden from the mundane, the ignorant, the incapable, and anyone who didn't need to know, or you just didn't like.

Wizards got the first part right, at least, but here? It was just so… blatant. So decorative. So frivolous.

So _goddamned cool._ It was probably just the eleven-year-old brain she now hadthinking such a thing, but dammit she was having a hard time arguing the point. For a mere shopping district, it was expertly tailored for children – everything at the right height and angle to draw a young prospective witch or wizard's eyes in every direction, all at once, and keeping their minds open to (and racing with) possibilities. Two stores across from each other sold brooms, one for general usage and a sport called 'Quidditch', another for racing – Rin did a double take when she saw a group of boys walk out, each with a broom of their own.

There was an apothecary filled with such a variety of ingredients that it was almost stereotypical. A plump red-haired woman walked past it, grumbling about the absurdity of the price of dragon liver per pound. Another building sold owls trained as familiars, pets, messenger birds, or all thee for more intelligent species.

"First thing's first," Ilya said as she matched step with her new Servant, Lancer. "We need to exchange our money for what wizards use."

"What _do_ wizards use?" asked Sakura.

"Galleons, sickles, and knuts. Twenty-nine knuts in a sickle and nineteen sickles in a galleon."

The three children froze. Rin went so far as to let out a choked splutteirng noise.

"But that's- That's-"

"Completely nonsensical? They have arithmancy for that, and we have calculators. It seems wizards permit a lot of convenience over logic. Ah, here we are – Gringott's, the sole wizarding bank chain in the world."

The building was certainly impressive enough for the job. It was a columned triangle of pure white marble, with a curved bronze roof and flat bronze doors. The group of seven walked through the bronze doors, not reacting terribly much to the uniformed goblins at the door, more than noting that it was far more important a job than most mages would give them. He bowed as they walked through the foyer, past a wiry-looking boy about the human mages' current age, up to a pair of silver doors, on which were engraved:

 _Enter stranger, but take heed,_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there_

Rin tilted her head as she looked up at the words. "Cursed?"

"Oh, there's definitely curses in the bank," said a goblin at the door, "but as long as you don't try and sneak in to the vaults, only thing you'll get from them is wet."

"And you are?"

The goblin gave large and somewhat sarcastic bow. "Ugrin. My role is mostly to prevent _every_ family new to the Wizarding World from doing something abysmally stupid or illegal with their finances."

Rin didn't believe that to be the entire story, but paid no mind as she stepped into the rather opulent main room of the bank. Like the outside it was marble, though the inside marble had veins of silver and gold running through it. Dozens of goblins sat behind dozens of stools behind one long U-shaped counter at roughly Illya's chest height, writing in ledgers, weighing coins, examining jewels and crystals with monocles, and peeling out checks from said ledgers. Behind the counter and goblins were a number of golden doors which swung in both directions as goblins led humans in and out of them.

Illya led the group to an unoccupied goblin and pulled out the wallet Zelretch had provided them. "Good morning, sir, I'd like to open an account."

"You do not already have one?" the goblin asked, raising an eyebrow at the very notion.

Illya put a hand to her face, sighing. "Father was not very… trusting, shall we say, of banks, and that was before he learned I was a witch. By no means did it help matters. Now that he's dead, my husband and I would like to set up an account somewhere more trustworthy than a muggle bank."

The goblin pursed his lips at that, shrugged, then pulled out a much thinner book and started scribbling in it. "Name?"

"Illyasviel Emiya von Einzbern."

If the goblin was in any way surprised by the odd name she provided, he said nothing of it. "Identification?" Illya handed hers over. The goblin looked it over, then looked over her shoulder.

"I would also like to connect the account to my… associates, and their family."

"Biological relation?"

Illya thought for a moment. "Yes and no. Shirou Emiya, the redhead, and I share a father; Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou, the dark-haired and violet-haired children, are siblings, but besides that none of us are related by blood."

"I note you do not share surnames."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, no," the goblin said, "merely unusual. It's convention, not the law, that says children must take the surnames of adopted parents, and many wizard children, especially from more notable families, do not, or take dual surnames." As the goblin said this, he finished the paper process and handed Illya a golden key and a needle.

"Please have all your family members deposit at least one drop of blood onto the key using that needle to register themselves to it, and the process will be complete. Are there any further questions?"

"Yes, do you take credit or debit cards?"

The goblin did a double-take before answering.

"Visa and MasterCard only. And you may as well leave them at home, there are less than a dozen locations in all of magical Britain that use bank cards."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Several minutes and two drying spells later, they stood outside of Gringotts, blinking to adjust their eyes to the strange yellow circle that was such a rare visitor to the English sky.

"Where to next, nee-san?" asked Sakura.

"Wands," said all six of the other 'family' members simultaneously, only to turn to look to Illya, Lancer, and Archer.

"All the adults we've seen so far have wands, so it would be odd for us to be seen without them." As if this was sufficient explanation (in her mind, it was), Illya walked into a store whose sign declared it to be 'Ollivanders', and made the incredulous claim of being nearly four centuries older than London.

A bell rang weakly somewhere within the shop as Lancer pushed open the door to the shop. It was narrow, tall, and oddly dusty for a shop so advertised in the Daily Prophet. Boxes, no doubt of wands, stretched from floor to ceiling, sorted by length, rigidity, core materials, and the taxonomy of their wooden sources.

"Good morning!" said a wide-eyed old man who caused Rin and Shirou to jump, as the others were all used to old men appearing from nowhere, or simply able to sense magic better than a mortal human could.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," said Illya with a small curtsy. Instantly, the man's friendly eyes turned to her and she put up her mental defenses almost by instinct. His eyes regarded her with the utter uncaring-ness of a tailor, but somehow she suspected he wasn't merely determining her physical measurements. An instant later, he moved to Shirou, then Rin, then each of the others in turn.

He then raised an eyebrow.

"Certainly an interesting family we have here. Perhaps even a bit of a challenge," he said, his eyes turning towards Lancer, "even for me. But!" he said, as he whirled around, "I won't give up at the first sign of hardship, and I have had harder customers. If I don't have at least an acceptable wand in this shop, I'll eat my calipers. I'll start with the adults of course." He turned, again, to Lancer. "Miss..."

"Scathach Megaletor."

His other eyebrow went up as the first went down, as if to ask if the Witch of Dun Scaith was serious. But as soon as it went up, it went back down.

"Yes, miss Megaletor," he said, "which is your dominant hand?"

"Right."

"Right," he said, and pulled out a measuring tape which proceeded to measure every conceivable measurement Scathach had, from the depth of the hair on her crown to the diameter of her heel bone.

"Hmm… definitely yew, definitely yew, hmm..." He headed into the back, then came out with a yew wand of ten and a half inches, a little springy, and handed it to her before yanking it out of her hand.

"No, no, definitely not unicorn horn, no..."

Wands went in and out of Scathach's hands for minutes, which soon became half an hour before Ollivander sighed and handed her one that actually _did_ react, in the form of a small sonic _boom_ accompanied by a wave of red light.

"Yew, ten inches, phoenix feather. Stiff as iron. You could stab someone with a wand that sturdy. Well, I suppose that's as close to perfect as I can get for you here. I suspect… hmm… There may be a better one for you, if my suspicions are correct, but it's in the Museum of Magic. You may as well try and take it from Hogwarts itself that way."

He then turned to Archer, not bothering for a response from Lancer. "Ah, you, my friend, should be much easier – not to offend, of course," he said as the tape measure went to work, "but you're the sort who _needs_ the kind of wand most people _want,_ Mr..."

"Odysseus Megaletor."

Less than a minute later, he was back and proven right. Ionian cypress, dragon's heartstrings, nine inches, and firm.

And so it went on, each getting their wand in turn.

Saber received a wand of English oak with a core of unicorn hair. Twelve inches, and a little bendy. She took a long time as well, though not nearly as long as Scathach.

Illya's wand was walnut and phoenix feather, seven inches, and quite supple, unusually so for the usually stiff walnut.

Shirou's was laurel and unicorn hair, nine inches, and one of the stiffest Ollivander had sold in years. When asked what that meant, the wandsmith made a noncommittal noise and said simply that "flexible wizards have flexible wands."

Rin's wand drew a smile from Ollivander, who after five minutes provided her a wand of red oak and unicorn hair, eleven inches, and springy.

Lastly came Sakura, who also had some difficulty in obtaining a wand. Eventually Ollivander provided her with a slightly curved wand of willow and phoenix feather, seven inches, and somewhat rigid.

As they moved to take their wand boxes after purchasing, Ollivander froze, then took on an apologetic expression.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Ollivander?" Illya asked neutrally as he pulled out Archer's wand.

"Nothing serious, Ms. Einzbern, unless you plan to go to battle anytime soon. I simply forgot to remove the braking charm."

"Braking…?"

"Ah, yes – all wands sold to children have a charm placed on them to slow their spells down to a pace more easily followed by the human eye, for safety reasons. As I sell most wands to children, all my wands have the charm on them. Normally I take the charms off as soon as the wand matches itself to the wizard."

As they stepped out for real this time, Scathach froze and turned her head to lock eyes with another woman. Pink hair, golden eyes, and at her hip was a wand of ebony. _That brat_ gave a playful smile and a wave, then continued walking with the clearly muggleborn family consisting of two parents and a bushy-haired girl.

* * *

 **an:** and there's the chapter. i didn't name hermione's servant because it should be pretty obvious, at least to those familiar with fate/grand order. i was also going to leave the identities of archer and lancer up for you to guess, but ultimately decided against it, like i decided against including the rest of diagon alley in this chapter. it will be skipped, as getting the wands is always the more important part. next stop, taking a train!

oh yeah, hermione gets a servant instead of harry or ron because neither harry nor ron in this timeline would have a chance in hell of doing something so magically complex without being caught. sure, summoning anything (let alone a _servant_ ) in nasuverse canon is a lot more complex, but hermione is that bitch, and her servant was genuinely surprised enough by the summoning to go along with it, botched as it may have been.


End file.
